


Carpe Diem

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Category: Forever (TV), The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-01 07:28:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5197448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Henry dies the first time, he meets her, Death of the Endless, and somehow an improbable friendship develops. People come and go, live and die, but Death is constant. And she's incessantly cheerful - until, of course, her brother disappears...and then the world begins to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carpe Diem

**Author's Note:**

> Bit of an obvious premise - Henry meeting a Death character, but this is the first I've seen with Death of the Endless. It just happened. I adore Death so much, she's a sweetie, and Henry has absolutely no idea what to make of her. Poor guy.

Darkness, and the infinite depth of the ocean. Shot, discarded unceremoniously, and abandoned, the ship sailing onwards into the night. The body of Henry Morgan drifted, and then, quite suddenly, without word - not that the corpse was in any position to speak - disappeared.

  


-

 

Spluttering, Henry burst out of the storm-ridden sea, gasping for air. He bobbed up and down, catching his breath, looking around for the ship that had left him floundering naked in the raging tempest. _Wait_...

He had been shot. He knew he had been shot, and yet there was nothing but a patch of seemingly-old scar tissue on his chest. Feeling the position of the mark, he knew nobody could have survived that. And then the matter of his clothes…he assumed the men aboard the ship must have stolen them.

“Over here!” a cheerful female voice called to him “Doctor Morgan!”

Turning, attempting to cover certain areas and protect at least a fraction of his dignity, Henry saw a young- wait, no, she was not exactly young - woman dressed in a long black gown, walking upon the water as calmly as you like.

“A thousand pardons, madam-” he began, but the woman laughed. Her skin was pale, paler than any she had seen, her lips were painted in dark contrasting black, and her eyes were outlined in a similar shade, with a curlicue detail curving down her cheek. She wore a pendant with an old-style medieval-looking cross, though he somewhat doubted ‘pious’ was the impression she had in mind.

“It’s nothing. I see a lot of people, and most of them look considerably worse than you. It’s nice for me to have a treat once in awhile,” she smiled winningly, and Henry wondered if she was Making Advances. A woman. Walking on water. While he was floating in a state of undress and she was smiling at him like nothing untoward had happened.

“Forgive me, but I am already joined to...to my _wife,_ Nora” ‘ _Til death us do part._ “She’ll hear about what happened and think the worst. Is it true? Am I dead? Is this some strange vision plaguing my dying moments?”

The woman shrugged. “You could say that. Normally it would be anyway. But by the time I got here you were alive again. Don’t look at me like that! It happens! Exceptions. One of my brothers is friends- no, perhaps that’s the wrong word - with one for a start, though he’s a different kettle of fish, he refused to die. You...sort of had immortality thrust upon you. Sorry. Clerical error.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yes,” the woman beamed. “ _ Deathly  _.”

  


-

 

“You again?” This time, Henry had made it to the bank of the river Thames, swimming away from his recent hanging, before she had appeared. “Who are you?”

“Me?”

“No, the other mysterious woman in black _following me post mortem_ of course I mean you-” he cut off when he realised she wasn’t listening. “Please stop examining my... _posterior_ , that is grossly improper I am-” he was about to say ‘a married man’, but was he, anymore? Nora had betrayed his trust. Still. It was not _decent._ There was something grossly indecent about this woman and he couldn’t quite place what it was. It would come to him in due course.

“Sorry,” the woman circled around. “Do you want to know what happens to your clothes? I know what happens.”

“I suppose you stole them for your own amusement?” Henry asked drily.

She looked offended. “I would never do such a thing. I merely _appreciate_ the results. Anyway _,_ that one looked like it hurt. Did it?”

“Yes.”

“Ouch.”

“Quite.”

The woman laughed. “You’re as stuffy as my brother sometimes, you know? Though that isn’t really possible, if we’re being honest. Have a nice day, Doctor Morgan.”

“Wait!” he called after her, as she walked away “Who are you? What’s happened to me? _Why_ me? What do you want from me?”

“Me? Nothing. It’s Desire you’ve got to watch for. Desire’s just plain nasty. I’m much more companionable. I’m _Death.”_ And thereupon lay the ‘gross indecency’, for what could be more indecent in nature?Looking back, the woman smiled, her lips still outlined in black.“I’ll see you soon, Doctor.”

And she was gone, the sound of beating wings left in her absence. Of course. Because nothing was ever simple, was it?

  


-

  


“SURPRISE, GUESS WHAT? YOU DIED AGAIN! Nice to see you by the way, Doctor. You’re looking well.”

“And...you’re looking at me like that again! You do this to intentionally irk me, don’t you?”

“No.” a pause. “Well, yes, but only because you’re so sweet with it.”

“...glad I could be of assistance.”

“You’re welcome!”

  


-

  


Over the years, Henry got rather used to the appearances of Death, including that day in the 1890s when she spent one day as a mortal and dragged him around London; ‘for fun’. It was not _fun_ , no, far from it. Last time, or so she said, she’d been in the East for her one day, enjoying the Chinese court. Another time she had been to Africa, or Van Diemen’s Land before it had been discovered, then later renamed, and so on, way back through human history, but she had decided to ruin his day just because she could. It was somewhat thematic with her; theoretically, she _could_ appear between his death and ‘rebirth’, whatever his sudden appearance in the water was, but seemed to prefer turning up after he lost all of his garments, revelling in his consternation. They got to be on first name terms after some time, she’d give him advice about whatever his latest difficulty was, and he came to be aware of her eccentric family situation (one of her brothers was missing, the rest were abstract anthropomorphic concepts. Also despite having originated long before earth began, they all seemed to have names beginning with a D in English. As coincidences went, it was possibly the most absurd). Always she was bright, cheerful, and incessantly happy, which after a long, arduous death, could be exactly what he needed. Always.

Except once.

“I know this is going to sound odd, but have you see a tall, skinny, pale _IDIOT_ with black hair, black clothes, general fondness for black...oh, and stars for eyes?”

“This is...sudden.” Henry looked back at the Belgian river he’d just crawled out of. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve lost mine,” Death snapped. Her face betrayed concern. “One of my brothers has gone missing.”

“Another one? You’re really not having a good millennium, are you? Which one?” Henry couldn’t imagine either of Death’s brothers abandoning their post, from what she had described. “Destiny? Or…” he trailed off, the pieces of the description fitting into place with what he knew about him. “It’s Dream, isn’t it? He’s disappeared? That explains a lot. People are having nightmares. Or they aren’t sleeping at all. Or they do nothing but sleep. I hadn’t linked it to-”

He stopped. From what he knew, Death and Dream were close, perhaps out of all the siblings, they were the closest. And Death worried about her younger brother, his stupidity, his poor life choices, his frankly appalling parenting skills and his frequent romantic failures, all of which she would complain greatly about when given the chance.

“Yeah, well, I think this was my fault,” Death sounded concerned. “They were trying to summon me.”

“Who?”

“Just some people,” she hissed, sounding desperate “They tried to summon me and they got him instead. And now he’s gone. And nobody can find him. Destiny won’t tell me. Look, I’ve already lost one brother, I won’t lose him as well. I can’t. If he’d died, obviously I’d know about it, and anyway, there would be a replacement, like what happened to Despair, remember, I told you about that? No? Oh. Well that’s a thing we can do. But I don’t want it to come to that. I just want my brother back. He’s hopeless sometimes. He _needs_ me, more than he likes to admit.”

“My apologies,” Henry said sincerely. “I hope he turns up soon.”

“He won’t,” Death snorted “He’s far too inconvenient. Anyway, if you, you know, see him, could you tell me?”

“What, kill myself and come for a pleasant chat?” Henry raised an eyebrow

“If it’s not too much trouble.” At first, he took this for sarcasm, but the woman’s tone was serious. _Deathly, even._ She was most perturbed, then.

“In that case, I will assuredly keep both eyes firmly open,” Henry promised, somewhat ill at ease: it was unlike Death to be so sincere, he found it decidedly odd. _That_ was what he found unusual, not the presence of Death, or the fact he was immortal, no, those things had become part and parcel of his everyday existence. But Death, being serious? No. Wrong.

“If you do see him,” Death said, in more of her usual playful tone “Tell him he’s a numbskull, will you?”

“You have my word, that if I encounter the living personification of dreams I will pass on your message and...well, yes, I will call him a numbskull on your behalf.”

“Thanks!” Death beamed, but it seemed more superficial than her usual smile, you could tell she was nervous. “You look after yourself, Henry. I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Likewise,” said Doctor Henry Morgan, to thin air, apparently, the sound of wings his only answer. She did that sometimes, disappeared at the most inopportune moments. That was the way of things. She would vanish, and leave only her absence, and the sound of wings.

Now really, where was he to get clothes from in the middle of Belgium? During a war? How was he going to explain this one? Sighing, Henry began the walk back to where he was stationed, wondering what the devil had happened to Dream of the Endless, and what the consequences were to be.

  


-

  


After that, Henry’s visits from Death were shorter, and she always conducted them between his dying and his resurrection in the river instead, so their discussions involved less nudity. They still had their chats, more often than Henry might have liked during the Second War - she was delighted when he started stepping out with Abigail and, when Abigail’s violent ex-associate rather memorably murdered him, it was Death who elbowed Henry slyly and said “You can’t abandon them because of that! Come on, go see Abe!”

She was the one who first shortened Abraham’s name to Abe.

She was the one who goaded Henry into marrying Abigail in the first place; ‘Come on Henry, _carpe_ that _diem!_ You only live once!’ and then she’d laughed. A lot. (thinking back, it occurred to Henry that not only had she coined the phrase YOLO that Lucas seemed to use so liberally - though he claimed it was ironic - but she had also acted the role of what Abe referred to as a ‘wingman’. Wingwoman. Literally) _The sound of wings…_

She was the one constant thing in an ever-changing world.

He didn’t love her. One couldn’t _love_ Death, it would be a little like declaring one’s infatuation with gravity; she was _there_ , she was necessary, inevitable even, and she was a law unto herself. But he didn’t love her. And she’d made it clear relationships were not her thing, unlike her unfortunate sibling Dream, whose taste in women had been disastrous, from mortals to one of the muses. No, this was a complex sort of friendship, albeit one he couldn’t possibly begin to explain. It was, like everything else in his world, an unfathomable mystery. A _long story._

They didn’t see one another frequently for some time. Henry lived a quiet enough life with Abigail and Abe for many years, until she disappeared and he took a turn for the worse, though he had managed to scrape by with Abe’s help. In fact, he had managed to stay entirely death-free for a good while until he was mugged walking home late one night and fatally shot. He was _not_ telling Abe about that one; Abe had been trying to persuade him to vary his clothing more, and one of the reasons (aside from not being a complete embarrassment as a father) was that he looked affluent, combine that with the accent, people assumed he was rich and all that alongside his so-called cluelessness, that made him a perfect target for armed robbery. Henry had insisted he would be fine, that the thefts in the area were entirely unlikely to be of any consequence to him. Until he was bleeding out on the pavement, he was certain of this fact. Alas, to be mistaken.

In between life and death, Henry stood up, watching the world move around him. On the bright side, he got to see his murderers exchange terrified looks and make a swift getaway after seeing Henry’s body disappear. Soon, Henry knew he would wake up in the river, as soon as Death was done with him of course. Where was she? Glancing around, he saw no one. Then, behind him, feathers ruffling. Smiling grimly, he turned, preparing for a lecture telling him to be more careful (if she and Abe formed a partnership, they could make a terrifying unholy alliance) he was not expecting what he saw.

Death, in skinny jeans, black sleeveless top, combat boots. She looked like one of those goth types, though then again, she always had. The 1980s update to his friend was not what surprised him. It was the tall, pale man, paler even than Death, skin as white as paper. He had a wild tangle of black hair and stood behind her, face drawn and solemn. He wore a long, dark coat, similar jeans and boots.

_Inside his eyes shone stars._

“Hey Henry!” Death sounded chirpy as ever, more so now she had her brother by her side like a long, dark shadow. “Dream, this is Henry. He’s one of my regulars, though he’s been behaving himself recently, haven’t you now? How’s Abe?”

“Abe is well, thank you. I-” Henry stopped, and looked up at that sincere face. “So this is Dream...I- I’ve heard a great deal about you, it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.” _You are exactly what I expected, albeit twice as terrifying; Death rather neglected to mention_ _ that._

“Indeed. I too have heard of you. My sister describes you with much fondness,” Dream was far more distant than his sister, far more unsettling. It was only fitting really. Death was sweet, a final ending, dreams now _dreams,_ they were something else entirely. They were deceptive. They were _other._ They contained unspeakable nightmares, terrifying phantom visages, _memories_ one would prefer not to remember.

“I heard you were…” Those eyes! Henry shifted uneasily under their intense, piercing gaze “I heard you were missing.”

“Yes,” was all Dream seemed willing to say, his voice low, dark and indescribably rich. “I was held prisoner for some time. I have returned now.”

“Dream’s hanging out with me for a bit, making up for lost time, aren’t you?” Death nudged Dream who seemed entirely baffled by the gesture and looked at Henry helplessly, his eyes - _those eyes!_ \- begging for aid. It was almost comical, to see such an uncertain look on that face, at something so mundane.

“That’s wonderful news!” Henry tried to keep a brave face. When Abigail had gone missing, he had thought of Death’s missing brother often, making parallels where he knew there were none. But now _he_ was back, and Abigail still remained entirely lost to the man who loved her most. Death noticed the sadness behind Henry’s words and pulled him into a hug.

“Don’t you worry, Henry,” she said simply, nothing more and nothing less, releasing him and meeting his eyes. “Don’t you worry. And be careful! That one, that was embarrassing! I felt bad for you!”

Behind her, Dream stood stock-still, a foreboding shadow. As Death prepared to leave, Dream came closer, his voice and his normally severe features softening. “If you like, I can give you dreams of her. The woman you lost, that is.”

Henry was tempted - _too_ tempted - to take Dream up on his offer. All he had left of Abigail were memories, to see her at night in dreams would be simply wonderful. But he knew that to go down that route would only bring unhappiness in the long run, and so he shook his head.

“Thank you for the gracious offer, but I’m afraid that might not be... _good_ for me.”

The gaunt figure of Dream inclined his head. “Very well. It has been an interesting meeting, Doctor Morgan.”

“Yes. It has.”

“Oi, Dream! Hurry up, you mopey git!” Death was waving her brother over now.

Dream shrugged hopelessly, and Henry couldn’t help but smile; his reaction to his sister was similar indeed to how Henry had found her all those years ago.

Before the two left, Dream looked back at Henry and said, in that strange, softer, gentler voice he had employed earlier “I understand your loss.” Of course he did. Death had told Henry much about Dream’s many, many, _many_ failed relationships. And then, the sound of wings, and the two were gone. _Fin._

Henry woke up floundering in the nearest water body and began the arduous swim to shore. He called Abe, skimming over the details of his most recent death, and sat down to wait for his ride to arrive.

Above him, stars danced.

  


-

  


Some time later, in the mid-90s, Henry saw Death again, in a dream he had. There were a lot of things in that dream, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destiny, all the Endless except two, a talking raven, masked vigilantes...a _Wake._ For the Lord of Dreams.

 _If he’d died, there would be a replacement..._ he remembered Death saying. So her brother, that enigmatic, stick-thin man, all arms and legs and joints, was dead and not-dead, simultaneously, she had lost him and yet she had not, she had only lost a version of him, and another would fill his shoes. That was a strange predicament to be in.

When he awoke, he knew the Wake had been real. Because it had been a dream. And so it had happened. This was the way, with the Endless. You had to accept a lot of strange things. Being immortal barely scratched the surface with those lot.

“I had a really weird dream last night,” Abe had said, the next morning. “There was this funeral, and Batman was there…Henry? You listening?”

“Hmm?”

“I knew it! You never listen!”

“Of course I do, Abe, do continue,” Henry said absently, thinking about Death and wondering how she was coping with having to _conclude_ perhaps her most beloved sibling. Part of him wanted to see her but that was rather self-destructive and Abraham would not be pleased. He had to wait until he was digging a grave one day and saw her - or thought he did, there were a lot of women in black at these affairs - in one of the funeral parties. She looked right at him and shrugged. He heard feathers move, but that could have been the ravens on the nearby tree.

When he looked back, of course, the woman was gone.

Typical. Just _bloody typical._

  


-

  


“Is this the ending?” Henry asked, after Adam shot him through the chest with the weapon of his first death. “Am I-” He wasn’t ready. There was Abe, and Jo! And even Lucas, when he came to think about it. This couldn’t be it. Not now.

“We-elll,” Death clicked her teeth. “You remember my brother Dream? He died. And then this kid, Daniel Hall, took his place, grew up instantaneously and became new Lord of Dreams. He’s pretty chill. White hair, wears all white, really big on white, because, you know, parallels, right? Lot more together than-” she broke off sadly “It was the old incarnation - some called him Morpheus, he kinda collected a lot of names - it was his time to go. But it isn’t yours. You’ve got Abe, and Jo, and that kid Lucas, Lucas is great! Oh, he’s a laugh a minute, he is. You should appreciate him more. I mean, he legit hero-worships you! Anyway, as I was saying, no. This isn’t it. You’ve got so much more to do, Henry. Give the world hell, or, failing that, you go...I don’t know, autopsy some corpses! Solve some murders! No I won’t give you the culprits because that’s cheating. Just...I know this sounds cheesy and coming from me a tad hypocritical, but Henry - _live_ a little.” she smiled faintly, almost wistful and sadly “And seriously, don’t let me see you here again for _at least_ another twenty years, are we clear?”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Abundantly.”

“Good! See you later, alligator!” Death clicked her fingers and pointed at him in some sort of bizarre friendship ritual. “Now you say ‘in a while crocodile’ and do the same.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of the saying, what I wanted to know was _why_?”

Death shrugged “The magic of friendship? Come on, we are friends, aren’t we? I’m Death, not exactly Little Miss Popular, am I now? Most of you people are running away from me - or running too quickly towards me sometimes - it’s refreshing to meet someone like you, Henry. So, and I’m going to keep doing this for as long as it takes, _see you later alligator?_ ”

Sighing, conscious that Abe was waiting for him and not wanting to further worry his son, Henry reluctantly completed the expression “In a while, crocodile,” and returned the bizarre hand gesture.

“That wasn’t so hard was it?” Death waved. “Well, byesies!”

_The sound of her wings._

He emerged from the water, within sight of a cheering Abraham. For the first time in a long while, his thoughts were not about breaking his curse. He was going to, as Death put it, ‘ _carpe_ that _diem’_ , even if he did have to tell Jo his secret. Maybe it was time anyway.

  


_Carpe diem._

_Seize the day._

  
  


 


End file.
